Forbidden Lady

By Anne Herries

Betrayed!

Sir Robert came in peace to claim his lady honourably. But Melissa denied their love, and her father had him whipped from the house.

Banished!

Forbidden to return, Rob seeks his fortune in the wars, determined to forget the woman who tricked him.

Back for his revenge!

As the Wars of the Roses ravage England, Melissa falls into Rob's power and declares she knew nothing of his punishment. He should not trust her but can he resist such vulnerable, innocent beauty?

• Language: English
• Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers Australia
• Release date: Jul 1, 2012
• ISBN: 9781460851418

Anne Herries

Linda Sole was started writing in 1976 and writing as Anne Herries, won the 2004 RNA Romance Award and the Betty Neels Trophy. Linda loves to write about the beauty of nature, though they are mostly about love and romance. She writes for her own enjoyment and loves to give pleasure to her readers. In her spare time, she enjoys watching the wildlife that visits her garden. Anne has now written more fifty books for HMB. You can visit her website at: www.lindasole.co.u

Book preview

Prologue

‘Melissa!’ Rob cried, shock and despair in his face as he looked at the girl he loved and found her cold and remote, her eyes seeming to look straight through him. ‘You cannot mean it. I beg you, tell me it is not true!’

Melissa stared at a point somewhere beyond his shoulder as she answered, ‘Your suit is unwelcome to me, Robert of Melford. I do not wish to wed you.’

‘Only yesterday you swore that you loved me,’ Rob said, a flash of accusation in his eyes now. ‘You laughed and kissed me and begged me to come here today and speak to your father…’ He took her by the upper arms, his fingers digging into her soft flesh. ‘Now you say you do not wish to be my wife? What has changed you? Tell me!’ In his passion he was so magnificent that she almost broke, but somehow…somehow she kept her body stiff and straight and raised her eyes to his.

‘I was merely playing a game,’ she told him, deliberately making her voice cold and toneless. ‘You are a fool to believe that I would truly wish to marry a man of your order. I am the daughter of a rich and powerful lord—and you are merely the son of a knight.’ Her laughter was false and shrill. ‘How could you think that I loved you? Leave this house now and never return!’

Rob stared at her for a moment longer, hardly able to credit that she was saying these words. Had her father been in the room with them he might have wondered if she was being forced, but they were alone and he had been welcomed to the castle by Lord Whitbread’s steward before being brought here to speak with Melissa. Looking at her now, he saw how proud she was and realised that he had been mistaken about her nature.

‘You laugh, lady,’ he said, his voice harsh as he looked down into her lovely face. She had flawless skin, eyes that reminded him of a clear, mountain pool and red-gold hair that clustered about her face and fell to the small of her back in soft waves—but her words showed she was a heartless witch. ‘But do not forget me—for I shall not forget you and one day…’

He left the threat in the air, turning to stride from the chamber. Melissa remained standing until the door closed and then she sagged, falling to her knees, her hands covering her face as the sobs broke from her. And then the tapestry behind her moved and a tall, heavily built man with a pockmarked face came out from the alcove behind it. Melissa rose to her feet and turned to look at him.

‘Are you satisfied, Father?’ she asked, her heart breaking. Yet pride returned as she met his stern gaze. ‘You will keep your promise to me now that I have sent him away as you demanded?’

‘He shall live, yes.’ Lord Whitbread grunted. ‘I doubt that puppy will come sniffing ’round here again in a hurry. You did well, Melissa.’

‘And now you will send me to my aunt? You will allow me to live with her in the Abbey—and take my vows?’

Lord Whitbread’s thin lips drew back in a sneer. ‘No, you may not. Take the veil you shall not. For this you would need my permission and I do not give it. In time I shall arrange a marriage for you. One that will bring credit to our family.’

‘But you promised…’ Melissa looked into his eyes and knew that he had lied to her. She had done what he demanded of her but he did not intend to keep his word. She moved towards him as the fear started up in her. ‘Father, you promised that he should be safe if I did what you want!’

‘I promised that he shall live,’ Lord Whitbread told her, his eyes glittering. ‘His life shall be spared, though I do not think he will thank you for it.’

‘What will you do to him?’

‘I have told Harold to have some sport,’ Lord Whitbread said, and his mouth curved in a cruel sneer. ‘You know your brother, Melissa.’

‘He is not my brother!’ Melissa cried. ‘That oafish brute is a bastard and no true…’ She gave a little scream as Lord Whitbread struck her across the mouth and she tasted blood.

‘Get to your room, girl, and stay there until I give you leave to come down,’ he ordered. He moved nearer to her, his face close to hers. ‘Remember that I own you, Melissa. I can do what I like to you—and if you displease me I might give you to your brother for his amusement.’

Melissa shuddered, for she knew that her father loved Harold but despised her. ‘Why do you hate me so much?’

‘Leave me!’ Lord Whitbread thundered. ‘You are lucky that I do not have you flogged for bringing Robert of Melford to my house. Remember, girl, if I ever discover that you have seen him again you will suffer.’

Melissa looked into his face and turned away. As she walked up the twisting stair that led to her solar she knew that she had made a terrible mistake. Her father had been so angry when he learned that she had promised herself to Rob, and he had warned her that if she did not send him away he would kill him. Melissa had obeyed him for she knew that he was a cruel hard man and would have carried out his threat. Now she knew that she ought to have run away and met Rob. She should have begged him to take her away…somewhere that her father and half brother would never find her.

But it was too late. She had seen the pain and anger in Rob’s eyes when she denied her love. She had known that she must be harsh to make him leave her, and for his sake she had used words she knew would cut him to the heart. And now her heart was bleeding for she had lost the man she loved, her only chance of happiness denied her. Her father had promised that she would be allowed to visit her aunt at the Abbey, but now he had decided to keep her a prisoner in her chamber. He meant her to marry a man of his choosing but how could she marry another when she loved Rob?

But he must hate her now. She knew that it was too late to go back and that he would never forgive her for her cruel words. She had played her part well to protect him from her father, who had warned her Rob would die a slow and painful death. So she had done her father’s bidding, and now she had lost the only man she had ever loved.

She took a tiny jade heart from inside her gown, holding it in the palm of her hand, and then she raised it to her lips and kissed it. Rob had given it to her on the day he had taken her to a fair. It was but a cheap trinket, but it meant more to her than all the gold and jewels in the world. She would keep it close to her as a reminder that once she had been loved.

Melissa raised her head proudly. Lord Whitbread had banished her to her chamber and ordered her to stay there until sent for, but one day she would leave this hateful place, though what would become of her she did not know. It did not matter, for it would be better if she had died rather than see the hurt her cruel words had inflicted on the man she loved more than her life.

Rob strode from the manor house, which was a later addition to the castle at Meresham and meant to make life more comfortable, his expression one of anger. How could Melissa’s smiles and sweet kisses have fooled him so? She was beautiful and the scent of her drove his senses wild, but she was as false as she was attractive—and he was well rid of her!

It was as he approached the ancient Keep that several men fell on him. Rob was taken by surprise, but he struggled against them valiantly, knocking two to the ground and winding another before they finally subdued him.

‘What is the meaning of this?’ he cried out. ‘I came here in good faith to ask for the hand of the lady Melissa. I demand that you unhand me now.’

‘And you shall be repaid for your insolence,’ a voice said. ‘My father wishes you to have a token of his esteem. Harris—tie his hands behind him. I want to teach this dog a lesson.’

Rob gazed into the face of the man who had spoken. He knew Harold of Meresham only slightly by sight, but his reputation was common knowledge. He was an oafish lout who took pleasure in the lusts of the flesh and indulged his tastes by inflicting himself on village wenches. However, his most dangerous vice was bullying and he had been known to beat a man near to death for amusement when under the influence of wine.

‘You may do your worst, Harold of Meresham,’ Rob said, meeting his eyes fearlessly. ‘I have done your family no wrong.’

‘Be quiet, dog!’ Harold said, and struck him across the face with a metal bar he had in his hand. It was sharp and cut into his flesh, making the blood spurt. Rob recoiled from the pain of it but could do nothing with his hands tied behind his back. ‘That was for my sister! She told me that you had insulted her and she wanted nothing more to do with you. You are too low for her, Robert of Melford. She will marry into one of the best families in England. How dare you imagine that you were fit to be her husband?’ He was raging now, his eyes staring and spittle upon his lips as he raised his arm and brought his weapon crashing down against Rob’s skull, sending him to his knees. Rob was almost unconscious but he heard the words that decided his fate. ‘Take him out and kill him, Harris. Let it be away from the castle for my father wanted him to live with the knowledge of his humiliation, but I prefer him dead.’

‘Yes, sir. It shall be as you wish.’

Harris grabbed Rob by the arm, making him stand upright even though the faintness was washing over him and he barely knew what was going on. He was dragged away, the pain so overwhelming that he could not think clearly.

‘Come on, fool. You deserve all that you get for thinking that you could insult the lady Melissa!’

Rob’s wits were reeling. He hardly knew what the man was saying. Blood was running down his face, into his mouth and his eyes. He could see nothing as he was hustled away. Harris barked some orders and a horse was brought. Rob was hoisted over its back, his head hanging down to one side as if he were a sack of wheat. Dimly, as from a distance, he heard the drawbridge being lowered and the horse moved forward. Everything was becoming hazy and he felt as if he were falling into a black pit, the sounds of voices fading as he lost his senses.

It was a long time before the blackness began to get lighter. He gradually became aware of a throbbing in his head. He could not see clearly but he knew that he was being carried, not thrown across the horse as before but in a sling between two horses. His mouth was dry and he was feeling very ill, but he was alive—and he should not be alive.

He moaned aloud and a man came to his side, looking down at him. A water flask was put to his lips and he swallowed as a few drops trickled into his mouth.

‘Do not try to talk, sir,’ the man said. ‘They meant to kill you, but I found help and beat them off. There were three of them but they did not know I followed. We shall soon have you home—though I fear that you will never be as handsome as you were.’

‘Who are you?’ Rob asked through cracked lips. ‘Why…’

The man smiled. ‘All you need to know for now is that I am a friend—and that you are safe…’

Rob closed his eyes again. He was alive. The pain was almost unbearable but he would bear it…as he would bear the agony of her betrayal. She had led him on, making him believe that she loved him as he loved her. Oh, God, how he had loved her! But she had betrayed him.

He saw again the triumphant sneer of Harold’s mouth as he struck him across the face, laying the flesh open to the bone.

That was for Melissa. She told me that you had insulted her.

Rob groaned, knowing that the pain of those words and her false laughter would live on long after his wounds had healed.

Chapter One

‘I do not think it wise for you to make the journey alone,’ Owain Davies said. ‘There are many lawless bands roaming the country, my lady, and they would not hesitate to take you prisoner and hold you to ransom. I do not think that Lord Whitbread would be pleased if that happened—do you?’

‘He would be very angry,’ the lady Melissa of Whitbread said. ‘But it will not happen if you are with us, Owain. I must get to the Abbey, because I may never have another chance. You know that I have been kept almost a prisoner for the past several months since…’ Her voice broke and she lifted her head, hiding her pain. She didn’t want anyone to guess how she had suffered these past months, not even the man she trusted most. ‘My father is determined that I shall marry a man of his choosing and I would rather die.’

‘That is foolish talk, my lady.’ Owain’s eyes narrowed. He had not been in the castle when Robert of Melford had been sent away and he did not know her true feelings on the matter for she had not confided in him.

‘Foolish or not it is how I feel. I have decided to beg my aunt for sanctuary. If she grants it, I may live at the Abbey in safety and perhaps take the veil.’

‘You should do so only if you have a calling,’ Owain replied, his eyes thoughtful as he looked at her face. He knew that her life had been hard these past years, and sometimes it was as much as he could bear to stand by and watch as she was ill-treated.

‘Are you willing to risk your father’s anger, knowing that he may punish you again?’

‘Yes, because there is no other way. Besides, she is my aunt and the only link to my mother,’ Melissa said, her eyes dark with sorrow for a mother’s love she had never known. ‘I would speak with her, ask her about my mother if she will tell me. She has always refused to talk of her sister, but she may relent this time if she understands how unhappy I have been…’

Her look was so wistful that Owain could not refuse her request, though he knew he ought not to allow this madcap idea. Lord Whitbread’s anger would know no bounds when he returned to find her gone.

‘If you wish it so much, I shall escort you,’ Owain said. ‘But we must return on the morrow. If we are gone no more than a day, it may be that your father will never know.’

Melissa smiled at him. She had known he would help her as never in the years that he had served her had he failed her. He had been the father she lacked, helping her in so many small ways that she had lost count. Yet she felt a little guilty for not having told him the whole truth. It was true that she wanted to ask her aunt about her mother, but it was not the only reason for her flight from Lord Whitbread’s manor.

It was a warm afternoon, but the canopy of ancient trees sheltered the traveller from the fierce heat, the stillness broken only by the heavy pounding of the destrier’s hooves and the sound of a thrush trilling from its secret hiding place. Suddenly, a woman’s screams rent the air; shrill and desperate, they sent a flock of birds winging into the sky, destroying the peace of the forest.

Robert Melford was riding hard, leaving his train lagging behind in his anxiety to reach his home on the borders of England and Wales. He had lately been at the Castle of Angers in France, where he had pledged his father’s affinity to Henry Tudor, Earl Richmond. Descended from the great John of Gaunt and Katherine Swynford, through Margaret Beaufort, Henry Tudor had a slender but legitimate claim to the English throne, and was even now gathering an army. Rob had gone to Richmond’s court with his father’s good wishes, for the wars that had plagued the country for nigh on thirty years were not yet done. The English crown sat uneasily on the head of King Richard III, who had seized it, in the opinion of many, from King Edward IV’s heir by treachery.

Now Rob was returning ahead of Henry Tudor’s army in order to gather support in the lush valleys and lowlands of the Marches. Even as he had prepared to leave Angers, a message had reached him that his father had been struck down with a dread illness and Rob’s haste was not so much on behalf of his promise to Richmond as his fear that he might be too late.

However, despite his impatience to be home, Rob was too much the chivalrous knight to ignore a woman’s cries for help. When he came to the clearing and saw the three ladies being attacked by a band of brigands, his first thought was to aid them. Drawing the trusty sword that he carried slung across his body, always at the ready, Rob rode directly at the brigand attempting to subdue a young woman. She was fighting for all she was worth, struggling against the superior strength of the great brute that had his hands on her, but it was the other two women who were screaming.

Rob leaned down from the saddle of his mighty steed, swinging the heavy sword and delivering a blow that cut deeply into the shoulder of the brigand, sending him staggering away to fall bleeding to the ground. Wheeling about, his destrier snorting with the lust of battle, Rob rode down another of the brutes and sent him flying, trampled beneath his horse’s hooves. Seeing that they were facing a powerful knight, who was trained for war, the other three robbers fled in panic.

Rob laughed in triumph as they disappeared into the forest, dismounted and turned to the woman who had fought so valiantly against her attackers, sweeping her a courtly bow.

‘I hope you are not harmed, lady,’ he said, and turned to her, smiling at her in a way that had charmed many a lady at Angers despite the disfiguring scar that marred one side of his face. Robert Melford was well formed, his shoulders broad, his legs long and powerful. He was also handsome, with his dark hair worn long, and his eyes as blue as the cloudless sky above their heads in this sunlit clearing. However, the humour left his eyes as he stared down into the face of the woman he had sworn to forget. ‘You!’ he exclaimed, his gaze fixed on her like a hungry wolf, ravenous and menacing.

‘Rob…’ Melissa said, the colour draining from her cheeks as she looked at him. His was a strong face with well-defined bones and, despite his stern expression, a soft mouth—but she could see only the terrible scar on his left cheek. ‘I…What happened to your face?’

Rob reached up to stroke the scar. It was no longer a source of terrible agony, though it had given him weeks of sleepless nights. The thick welt of red flesh was unsightly, for it had been crudely sewn and had never quite healed as it ought, though the blow to his head had recovered well and there was only a thin scar beneath his thick hair. Her question made him angry and he could barely restrain himself, his hands clenching at his sides.

‘You dare to ask?’ he said harshly. ‘This was your parting gift to me, lady. Your brother laid my cheek open to the bone to remind me not to look above my station in the matter of a wife.’

‘No…’ Melissa felt the sickness in her throat as she stared at Harold’s work. ‘I knew that my father had told him…but that is so cruel…’ She closed her eyes for the realisation of what he must have suffered had washed over her, making her faint. ‘I feared the worst and wondered if you were dead….’

Although a wimple covered her head, a few strands of red-gold hair had escaped to curl waywardly about her face. Her complexion was fair, her eyes more green than blue. Rob’s eyes dwelled on her beauty, anger stirring as he understood that she still had the power to move him.

‘As you see, I am not,’ Rob said coldly. ‘I am sorry to disappoint you, lady, but your brother did not finish his work and I live still.’

Melissa opened her eyes and looked at him. ‘You think that I wished for…’ She turned away from him, fighting her tears. She must not give way to weakness. ‘No matter. I am innocent of the sin you would place on me, sir—but I shall not beg for your understanding. You have come to my aid, though perhaps you wish now that you had not?’

‘I have not said it,’ Rob growled. ‘You may be faithless, lady, but your women deserved my help.’ He looked around him. ‘Where are your men? Why has your father allowed you to ride out unprotected in these uncertain times?’ His gaze narrowed. ‘Or does he know that you are here?’

Melissa raised her head proudly. ‘I go to the Abbey to visit my aunt who is Abbess there. She wrote some weeks ago to say that she was unwell…and I took the opportunity to visit her while my father was away.’

‘As I thought,’ Rob said, looking down at her. What was it about her that affected him so? He had every reason to distrust and hate her, and he had made up his mind to put her from his thoughts—but seeing her had brought the pain and anguish of her betrayal rushing back.

She affected him as no other ever had. She was surely the most beautiful woman he had ever seen! He experienced a surge of fierce desire that made him long to sweep her up in his arms and ride off with her. But he fought it, listening to her explanation in silence.

‘My groom accompanied us, but he lies dreadfully wounded a little back there….’ She pointed in the direction she had come from, which was opposite to that Rob had taken to reach this clearing. ‘I believe he may well be dead.’ A little sob escaped her. ‘Owain was loyal and kind and I will blame myself for his death…as you say, I ought not to have come without men-at-arms to guard me. It will be my fault if he dies because he was against this journey.’

‘Your will prevailed as always,’ Rob said scornfully as the memory of her scorn stilled the surging desire. She was false and not to be trusted, so even if his body still burned for her, his mind rejected all that she was. ‘Show me where you left the man…we should go and see whether his wound is fatal. You have been foolish and wilful, lady, and we must hope that the loss of your serf is the worst that befalls you.’

‘Owain is not a serf,’ Melissa said, and her eyes flashed with fire as she was aware of his scorn. ‘He is his own man but chooses to give his affinity to me.’

Rob knew that he was right to distrust her, for plainly she was as haughty and proud as she was beautiful. ‘To you, lady?’ he asked, raising his brows. ‘It is more usual for a man to offer his affinity to a nobleman for his good lordship.’

‘Owain was my mother’s kinsman,’ Melissa said. ‘When she died in childbed, he gave his loyalty to me. He asks for nothing more than a roof over his head and the food he eats.’

‘And wears your father’s livery no doubt?’ Rob said, mocking her in the hope of some reaction. She did not fail him, her eyes sparking as she raised a hand to strike him a blow. He was too quick for her, seizing her wrist and holding it in an iron grip. Against the fairness of her skin, his was dark toned and bronzed by the sun of France.

‘Let me go, you devil!’ Melissa blazed at him, feeling angry now. He hated her for what had been done to him, and perhaps he had the right—but his scorn pricked her and her anxiety for Owain had brought her close to tears.

‘Let you go?’ Rob asked, wild thoughts of revenge in his mind. He could take her now, ride off with her to his home and teach her what it felt like to know despair, and yet her beauty moved him and he smiled oddly. ‘No, no, lady, let us not come to blows. I shall take you up with me since your horse has been lost. If your ladies wait here my men will arrive at any moment and they may follow us to the Abbey, bringing your